


The Impracticability of Dragons

by cc_keb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Anal Sex, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Consensual, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Falling In Love, Ghosts, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magical Bond, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Supportive Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc_keb/pseuds/cc_keb
Summary: At this point in his life, Harry really shouldn't be surprised that love is the answer."Didn't wanna be a ghostBut you pushed me over and overNever thought I’d have a viceOther than you, over and over,"— Lauv





	The Impracticability of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is mostly inspired by the song Reforget (by Lauv) and heavily edited by my lovely beta.
> 
> I'd like to thank those who support my stories/writing and I deeply hope you enjoy this long adventure!
> 
> Visit my tumblr if you'd like.

 

    He had decided it on a whim for the most part. 

  
  


    It was one of those days where he was holed up in his flat, his many regrets eating away at his thin chest. He had been close to sleep on his tattered couch when his eyes had flitted to a crumpled newspaper, an article detailing Narcissa and Draco Malfoys upcoming trial. Harry tensed, glaring at the paper in anger, and sent an accidental burst of wandless magic to lash out and set the upsetting details ablaze. Accustomed to his frequent accidental mistakes, he sighed and quickly put out the small blaze.  He brushed a hand through his matted hair and relaxed into the couch cushions once again, trying to forget the whole incident. He had failed so many people,  _ too many _ people. He knew it much to well that he should just stay home and ignore the trial, but Harry had never been particularly good at ignoring Malfoy, had he?

  
  


    Hermione and Ron sat at the table in his small but respectable kitchen as they talked over dinner.

    “Well, what are you going to do Harry, are you going back?” Hermione asked in between bites of her potatoes. Harry hummed in thought. Everyone had received their Hogwarts letters a little over a week ago, stating that if they chose, they were welcome back to finish their disrupted education. Over the summer, Harry had done so much thinking that it seemed crazy to him that he had barely thought of Hogwarts at all. He found he had only recalled his many times there only in his nightmares.

    “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully with a sheepish smile. 

  
  


   Ron gave his input through a mouth full of food, as per usual. Merlin did it make Harry cringe. He had learned at this point that it was best to focus on Ron’s hair or nose, not his mouth.  

    “Well, if you’re going to be an Auror you need to go back for your NEWTs. You do still want to be an Auror, right?” Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what to do. Harry had always imagined freedom from the burden that was Voldemort would be great, but instead, he found himself feeling more lost than ever before.

  
  


    “Hermione,” Harry spoke. Hermione hummed softly against her fork, her gaze flicking up to meet his. 

    “The trial is tomorrow.” 

    Ron’s face scrunched in confusion, “Trial?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

    “For the Malfoys Ron, honestly!” she cried. Then, turning to Harry she glared at Harry. “You won’t interfere, will you? I know you're bloody obsessed but leave it alone Harry. It’s over, I mean it.” Her pointed look and sharp fork glinted dangerously and he nodded quickly. As much as he loved Hermione, his curiosity always seemed to win out in the end. He simply hoped he’d remember her words the day of.

  
  


   Perhaps it was a terrible idea, no– it most  _ definitely _ was a terrible idea, but Harry couldn’t be bothered to argue with himself when he was already dressed and working a wide-toothed comb through his raven locks. He grunted as he tugged down harshly and fell back into his coffee table. 

    “Lovely,” he groaned, rubbing his back. With a sigh, he had given up. Harry patted his hair into a half decent state and  apparated  out. Wind attacked his face violently as he appeared with a sickening crack. He stared up at the gloomy building and reminded himself once again that he really should learn to listen to Hermione more often.

  
  


    Straightening his back, he inside the ministry building. Instantly, he felt a shift in mood. Ministry officials faces stood sunken and sullen, a general frown stuck in place as they hurriedly swept through the hall. Somehow, Harry began to feel some sort of empathy for the two Malfoys. The atmosphere change made it apparent that nobody who mattered planned to be fair towards the two. He understood, of course, they weren’t the greatest people, but he felt they still deserved a chance to be better. Perhaps, long ago, he had decided it was him who would give them that chance. 

 

    By the time the trial had begun, Draco Malfoy had yet to arrive. Narcissa Malfoy stood inside a clear open-topped box, a few papers clenched tightly in her visibly shaky hands. It irked him, he went out of his way to ensure Malfoy’s safety and he couldn’t even be arsed to show. Harry held his tongue almost the entirety of the trial only speaking when absolutely necessary. In the end, he had spoken in Narcissa’s defence and his word had been favoured above all. The hearing ended in a noticed follow up trial for both her and Malfoy that would file their fates. Now all Malfoy had to do was show up and hopefully, everything would go smoothly. The date was set six months from them, February 27th of the following year a date surely to be remembered.

  
  


    Walking down the narrow long hall of the ministry he shoved his hands in his pocket, ruining the hemlines of his robes. “Mr. Potter!” A hand shot out, tugging at his wrist. Harry whipped around his eyes wide and alert, his body thrumming with magic. Narcissa Malfoy stood behind him, her eyes red and her hair wilder than he’d seen before. 

  
  


    “Find him, please,” she whispered. Harry paused, searching her eyes. “Find who?” 

  
  


    “Dragon, my dragon! Draco, you have to find him—you owe us. You owe me, I saved your life!” She yelled, her chest thrumming for breath as she brought herself to tears. “Rubbish, I saved you from Azkaban, I don’t owe you anything.” She shook her white-blonde hair wildly. “No, I didn’t ask for your help then, it doesn’t count.” 

  
  


    Harry bit his tongue, his anger flaring dangerously. He wanted to tell her he owed her nothing, that he was done being a slave to the Wizarding world. But the utter desperation in her eyes made him stop. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore and all the others may have died, he could never get back. But Malfoy, Malfoy was missing. If Harry found him before he had the chance to get anywhere near death, he could save him before he owed him too. Sometimes, he decided, dying wasn’t enough.

  
  


    The tension drummed in their ears as Harry mulled over his options. He could help her and find Malfoy, or he could play the part and walk away with his head held high. 

  
  


    “What happened?” 

  
  


    Narcissa quickly patted her eyes dry with a spare pristine handkerchief as she composed herself carefully. Without answering she grabbed his wrist, and then he found himself in front of Malfoy Manor, or what was left of the historic building. The anger he felt without the consented apparition was soon replaced with a feeling he couldn’t describe. Harry swallowed thickly, turning to the older Malfoy as he opened his mouth to repeat his question. 

  
  


    Mrs. Malfoy frowned, turning to meet emerald eyes. “Marriage,” she rasped out. “Lucius and I, we mentioned an arranged marriage to keep our family strong. Draco didn’t like it and he–” she blinked rapidly, fighting a new burst of tears no doubt. Harry took a wild guess as to what happened next. “He set the Manor on fire?” She shook her head sadly.

  
  


    “He didn’t mean to, it was accidental magic,” she whispered nervously. “He had been struggling with these types of accidents since sixth year. We were trying to get him a mind healer,” she stopped, pressing her lips together tightly.

  
  


    Harry wanted to press, but the voice of Hermione interfered with his thoughts and he held his tongue. Though, he could acknowledge how hard it was for her to talk about him, to be open about how dysfunctional her family truly was after years of pretending perfection. In some small way, he appreciated her efforts at being a better person and a better mum. Harry just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  
  


    Somehow, he felt he understood her. The war had been anything but easy. Even if Harry didn’t especially like Malfoy, or that he shared similar thoughts with those of a monster, in the end, both Malfoy and many others had been nothing shy of kids forced down a path no one had asked for. He wasn’t innocent, he had many faults, but he deserved a chance.

  
  


    “Where have you been staying?” Harry asked softly. Narcissa’s brows raised slightly before she looked away and spoke, “I hardly see how that is any of your concern Mr. Potter.” He shook his head, his messy locks brushing his forehead irritably. “Your sister misses you, Mrs. Malfoy. She’s been taking care of Teddy, your  great-nephew. He’s hard to manage on her own. Why don’t you stay with her for a while?” She turned to meet his gaze again, her pale eyes searching his for something. For minutes they stood in silence, nothing but the soft occasional tumble of rubble filling the space in between.

  
  


    “I shall consider it Mr. Potter. You can leave now if you would like. Send me an owl if you find anything.” Her elegant robes swished in the wind as she turned around to return to where she had been staying previously. Stopping briefly to glance over her shoulder. 

    “Thank you.” 

  
  


     Then, she was gone.


End file.
